


Leaving

by butihavejoy (kjack89)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Forgiveness, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 08:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/butihavejoy
Summary: Tony and Steve have a conversation the night before they go back in time.





	Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> For Chelsea and Reagan, with all my love.
> 
> Just a random drabble that popped in my head and I figured why not.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“I updated my will.” **  
**

Tony’s voice was quiet in the otherwise silent room where he and Steve lay side by side, not quite touching. “Why?” Steve asked, equally soft.

“You know, seeing as how we’re going through a whole time-hopping, dimension bending thing-y tomorrow.” Steve couldn’t see Tony but he knew that tone well, the attempt at humor to always keep what he was really thinking or feeling at bay. “Wanted to be sure my, uh, affairs were in order.”

Steve flinched. “This isn’t an—” he started, because it wasn’t, because whatever had been between them before, he would never — and for that matter, neither would Tony.

“I know,” Tony interrupted, rolling over onto his side to face Steve. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”

In another universe, before Thanos, before Bucky, Steve would’ve taken Tony’s hand and squeezed it to tell him he understood, or would’ve kissed him lightly to get him to shut up long enough that he could get to the point.

He did neither of those things now and Tony cleared his throat before continuing, “I’m leaving everything Stark Industries related to Pepper and Morgan, and everything Avengers-related to everyone who survives this suicide mission.”

“This suicide mission that you came up with,” Steve couldn’t help but remind him.

He could just make out Tony’s smile in the darkness. “Yeah, which is the only reason why we might actually make it back and render this entire conversation moot.”

“Well, if you’re looking for my approval—“

Tony shook his head. “I’m not. I’m leaving you something as well. Just in case.”

“Tony—“

“I’m leaving you the suit.” Steve went completely still, staring at him as if he had lost his mind.

Maybe he had.

Maybe they both had. 

“Well, Pepper will still have hers, obviously,” Tony was saying, as if he hadn’t noticed that Steve wasn’t saying anything, “and Rhodey will have his, and since Morgan’s already smarter than I was at her age, I don’t doubt she’ll figure out how to make her own, but the rest of it — the blueprints, the schematics, the tech and every suit still out there — it’s all yours.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

“I know,” Tony said and Steve’s head snapped up in surprise. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Why—“

“Because you’re the only one who understands.” Tony said the words simply, easily, like he’d given this a lot of thought, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder how much he had thought of him over the past few years. “You understand what it’s like to be made into a weapon, and what it’s like to turn that weapon into something more. Something better.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see it before.”

“See what?” Steve asked, almost in spite of himself.

“That’s what you were trying to do with Barnes.”

It wasn’t an apology for everything that had broken between them, and it certainly wouldn’t heal the rift in trust that still stretched like a chasm between them even as they lay in the same room. 

But it was something. 

Which was more than Steve thought he’d ever get.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it, either,” he said, honest with both Tony and himself for the first time in longer than he cared to admit. “When I asked what you were when you took the suit away—”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, if memory serves,” Tony said lightly, and while Steve could hear the smile in his voice, he refused to let himself get distracted.

“No,” he said firmly. “Take the suit away and whatever else you may be, whatever else you may be left with, you’re still a good man.”

For a long moment, long enough that Steve almost worried he’d gone too far, Tony was silent. Then, in a voice so quiet that Steve almost didn’t hear him, he said, “Being Iron Man is what made me a good man.”

Steve shrugged, even though he knew Tony couldn’t see him. “Maybe,” he said evenly. “Or maybe being a good man is what allowed you to become Iron Man in the first place.”

“Maybe,” Tony allowed, but Steve could tell by his tone that he was only humoring him, and despite himself, despite knowing he shouldn’t, despite knowing they couldn’t, he reached out to trace his fingers lightly through the stubble along Tony’s jaw. Tony leaned into the touch, though there was something almost pained in his voice when he whispered, “Steve…”

Steve pulled his hand away, letting it fall to his side. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t quite sure whether he was apologizing for touching Tony or for pulling away.

Or for what he was about to say next.

“I can’t take the suit. I can’t—” He broke off, trying to put it into words that Tony would understand. “I can’t be responsible for Iron Man’s legacy. It’s too much for me.”

Tony’s expression was impossible to read in the dim light. “Ok,” he said finally. “I’ll give it to Banner, then.”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Tony interrupted, something fierce in his voice. “Don’t apologize. Not to me, and not for this.” He paused and Steve wondered if he too was struggling with what to say, with the enormity of all the things between them that they had left unsaid as they stood on the precipice of what tomorrow might bring. “You’ve fought more wars on more fronts than anyone should ever need to. I should never have asked you to fight this one, too.” His tone turned bitter and Steve knew Tony’s expression was twisting in the way it did when he turned his most self-deprecating. “The war for Tony Stark’s legacy.”

“No.”

Tony seemed taken aback. “No what?”

“Not Tony Stark’s legacy,” Steve said. “The suit is about Iron Man’s legacy.” Tony started to interrupt but Steve didn’t let him, moving closer to him as if he could convince him through sheer proximity alone. “Tony Stark’s legacy is safe. You’re a good man, and at the very least, I promise I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.”

Again Tony was silent but this time, Steve wasn’t worried about what he might be thinking. He had said his peace, and that was what mattered.

He was surprised, however, when it was Tony this time who reached out, who cupped his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, where it had rested so many times before just before tugging him down for a kiss. There was no such movement this time, but that didn’t matter.

The touch was enough.

“Thank you,” Tony said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against the fine hairs on the nape of Steve’s neck. “Though if we both die tomorrow that promise may not mean a helluva lot.”

Steve rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. “Leave it to you to ruin a moment,” he said, and Tony laughed as well. Steve caught Tony’s wrist before he could pull away entirely, holding him in place. “Tony—” he started, before pausing.

There was too much to say.

And yet here, now, even without an apology for the last six years, even without saying what had lingered between them, Steve knew he didn’t need to say anything. 

“Get some sleep,” he said instead, though his tone was a little too gentle to make it a true order, and he let go of Tony’s wrist.

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Tony murmured, too soft also to be the sarcasm he likely intended.

They both lay in silence for a long moment until Steve felt like he might finally be able to drift off.

Just as he did, he thought he felt Tony’s fingers brush against his and without even thinking, without even hesitating, he turned his hand just enough to lace their fingers together.

Tony gave no protest, made no move to pull his hand away, his breath evening out as sleep took him. Steve was close behind him, comforted in ways he could never even hope to understand by the feel of Tony’s hand in his.

Comforted, perhaps, by the knowledge that Tony was here, comforted by the warm weight of Tony’s hand that proved he was still alive, that this entire conversation was a hypothetical.

Because as much as he had meant what he had told Tony, Steve knew that a world in which Tony’s legacy was all he had left of him was not one he ever wanted to see.


End file.
